


nights

by dickparty



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Timeline, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7801078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickparty/pseuds/dickparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of drabbles of sanji and luffy getting down</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> quick note - none of these drabbles are connected or anything . they all random and i'll add more as i write them

 

 

Luffy could feel long thighs flexing hard under his hands, could feel the rotation of hips and the all-over body shudder erupt beneath his fingertips, and his throat hurt, but he liked it — liked it when Sanji bucked up into his mouth until he was pressing hard, sliding down, cutting off his airway, making him gag, making him sore — he really liked that.

 

Whenever Luffy moaned around Sanji, he always got the perfect response, and it was always different, and it was always playing on repeat in his head later, and he didn’t do it that often because he savored these things — like when Sanji would press his head back harder into the cushion of the bench seat in the galley late at night, or groan back at him, or grab his hair with two hands and hold his head still while he rolled his hips.

 

“I’m gonna come if you keep going.”

 

“That’s okay,” Luffy would always say, or something like that. He’d lick the head of Sanji’s dick and pull it into his mouth, flattening his tongue down, and he could feel the ache and the tension and the edge from that alone. He’d pull back again, and real quietly, he’d say something like, “I want you to,” or, “I wanna taste it.”

 

“You sure?” was always Sanji’s response. Almost always. But always breathless and in motion.

 

Of course he was sure. What a stupid question to ask. But Luffy didn’t mind it.

 

Sometimes, he would say something like, “I wanna watch.”

 

“Fine, then get off me—“

 

And Luffy would sit back and watch Sanji wrap his hand around himself, fist between his thighs, and Luffy would watch the movement in his wrist, the tightening of his grip at the end of each stroke, the pull that followed with hips and deep sighs and sweat all over him, and Luffy would lick his lips and try not to blink.

 

“Hey. I wanna see you come on yourself.”

 

Sanji would open his eyes at Luffy when he said shit like that, his hair still all in his face, his mouth open and breathing heavy, and he would say, “Yeah? That an order?”

 

Luffy usually grinned. But sometimes he didn’t. Always, though — always, he said, “Yeah.”

 

Sometimes. Every once in a while. Very, very quietly, Sanji would admit, almost under his breath, “I like when you order me around like that, Captain.”

 

“I know.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, hey, you sure?” Luffy asked with a stupid smile on his face while Sanji pressed him up against the wall inside his galley, leaving all the lights off. “Everybody else is right outside.“ 

“Nobody’s gonna catch us, the girls all went to bed and everyone — everyone else is a fucking idiot,” Sanji said with quicker, deeper breaths than normal. Luffy could feel the warmth from him speaking next to his ear.

“I don’t care if they see us—“

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“I’m just saying!” 

Sanji glared at him before dropping to his knees. “I like you better when you’re quiet.” 

“That’s not true at all.” 

Instead of saying anything in response, Sanji just unbuttoned the front of Luffy’s pants, pulling the long sash from his hips, his hands working fast, really fast—

Luffy was going to say something else, something funny, maybe, but Sanji was pulling at his pants and mouthing at his crotch and his mind kind of blanked. 

“This is how I like you,” Sanji said against him, and Luffy tried to say words, but it was just his voice catching on his tongue. 

Sanji was really good at sucking his dick. He liked doing it, a lot, apparently, which he wouldn’t admit for a while until one night, when Luffy was already so damn hard and ready and impatient for more, when he said, “Hey, you don’t have to — we can just, we can just do the thing if —“ 

“It’s fine.” 

“Really, I’m ready, Sanji, just—“ 

Cutting him off with red cheeks and super blunt and direct words, he’d said to Luffy in this almost hushed voice, “No. I’m fucking — damn it — Luffy. I want to. So just let me.” 

He’d cleared his throat and borderline glared at Luffy. Who, in response, had nodded quickly. 

So Sanji got in those kinds of moods sometimes, where he really wanted to do that. To bury his face between Luffy’s thighs and stay there. This felt like one of those nights. 

Luffy bit his lip, quiet enough to hear Sanji’s breathing, and everyone else yelling at each other out on the deck, and he closed his eyes and groaned when Sanji gripped him tight and licked him up and down, and he grabbed for fistfuls of his hair to keep from losing his balance.


	3. Chapter 3

Long fingers and a long tongue snaked around him, pressed against him and dragged, made his whole body want to curl up and then unravel, and that was how it felt, like he was being unwound while he laid on his back, his voice catching deep in his throat. 

“Hey,” Luffy said while his eyelids fluttered and his breath left him. 

“Mm.” 

“Are, uh, you sure—“

“Don’t be stupid.”

Sanji spoke against the skin on his stomach, didn’t look up at him, even when Luffy pushed all his hair out of his face. His hair was getting even longer. Luffy liked it — his hair. Sanji knew it. 

Luffy snorted a little. “You’re so drunk, tho-ough,” he hummed out, craning his head back against the floorboards of the crow’s nest when Sanji pressed his thumbs into the dips in his pelvis. Even in the middle of the night, Luffy could see the clear outline of Sanji’s forearms, of his curved back, and the way his whole body moved on top of him, crawling on hands and knees and leaning down and trailing his lips along skin. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna be drunk every time—“ Luffy started to say before Sanji rose up and put his palms flat on the floorboards and leaned down to cut him off, and he kissed him, kissed him kind of softly, kind of differently than last time. 

They’d done this once before. A while ago. 

When they got like this, when they were this in tune, a lot of things didn’t really need to be said. Like they had their own silent communication that just kind of drifted between them, and maybe he was wrong, because he’d been wrong plenty of times, but it felt like there was a lot of what makes you think there’ll be a next time? on Sanji’s lips. 

“Mm—“ Sanji’s voice vibrated against his mouth, and he pulled back just a little, leaned a little more, the weight in his chest pressed against Luffy’s, and In his ear, in this really low and quiet voice, Sanji said, “I just want you to fuck me. Alright?”

Luffy’s arms were already winding up past Sanji’s neck, pulling the rest of him down, wanting more of that weight and that energy as he whispered, “Alright.” 

There was no rush. This time was different than the first. They didn’t have a routine, but they had familiarity, they had a little experience, and every movement they made together had a sense of returning to something they’d missed.


End file.
